


Dr. Sheppard and Col. Rodney McKay snippets

by sardonicsmiley



Series: Parallels 'Verse [5]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode: s01e10-e11 The Storm/The Eye, Homophobic Language, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-31
Updated: 2008-07-31
Packaged: 2021-01-04 20:50:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21203906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sardonicsmiley/pseuds/sardonicsmiley





	1. Dr. John Sheppard and Col. Rodney McKay

"You know, they say the only things that come from Texas are steers and queers." 

Rodney looks up tiredly, wondering briefly how Sheppard even found him. The balcony Rodney had chosen was as out of the way as they got, and with the rain still falling down over the city Rodney had been counting on being left alone. He's not ready to deal with people yet. Much less people as prickly as Sheppard. 

That's not stopping Sheppard from stepping out into the rain, crossing his arms and staring expectantly down at Rodney. After a moment he nudges Rodney with his boot, "Well? Which is it?" and his voice is laced with those razor edges that he carries around, sharp and taunting, pushing when he knows damn well how far Rodney's already been pushed. 

Rodney closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, tilting his face up towards the rain and forcing his fists to unclench. When he opens them, Sheppard is still standing over him, smirking, ignoring the bandage around his arm and the way his glasses are getting covered with rain. 

And Rodney just doesn't feel like dealing with Sheppard's petty shit, his need to make sure everyone knows what a cold son of a bitch he is. Rodney jerks to his feet, Sheppard's eyes going wide, his arms uncrossing awkwardly, like he might be intending to fend Rodney off. 

Rodney already has him backed against the railing, his hands on either side of Sheppard's hips. It's easy to get into the man's face, his dark hair plastered all around his face in the rain. Rodney opens his mouth, ready to unload, and then remembers who he is, and draws back. 

The excess adrenaline, the anger, the fear are all making him stupid. Rodney rubs a hand up over his face, shaking off the water and waving a tired hand at Sheppard, "Whichever amuses you, Sheppard. I'm going to bed," and he can hear the drawn out vowels in his own speech, the accent that he hasn't quite got tucked away again yet. 

"You killed those men," Sheppard blurts the words right before Rodney steps through the doorway. Rodney tells himself to keep going, but he's all locked up. He raises his fist, rapping it against the smooth Ancient metal and turning to look at Sheppard, standing out in the rain, arms crossed and shoulders hunched in. 

Rodney sighs, "Yeah." 

Sheppard shifts awkwardly, wipes at his glasses and then seems to realize that he's not going to do any good while standing out in the rain. After a moment he demands, only it's not quite a demand, not really, "Why?" 

Rodney stares at him, wondering what the man's angle is, too tired to try to figure out the twisted maze that is Sheppard's psyche. He shrugs, "Because it's my job. Because I'm good at it. Because I was the only one here that could. Because they put a gun to Weir's head." He bites his tongue, but the words come out anyway, "Because I thought they were going to kill you." He waves a hand, "Pick a reason." 

He starts to turn and Sheppard jerks a step towards him, "What if I pick the last one?" 

For a moment they just stare at each other, and then Rodney shakes his head, "What if you do? I don't know what you want from me here, Sheppard, I don't—" 

And then Sheppard is there, gripping the sides of Rodney's head and pulling them together. The kiss is hard and brutal and desperate. For a moment Rodney flounders, but he's used to meeting and matching every one of Sheppard's mood changes. Reacting is automatic, kissing back, giving as good as he gets as Sheppard tries to climb all over him. 

They end up stumbling sideways until they find a wall, Sheppard rubbing up against him, biting out beaten kisses, "Impossible, stupid, bastard, I don't know—" 

Rodney scowls, turning them, slamming Sheppard's back against the wall, hands going under the man's ass and just lifting. Sheppard gasps against his mouth, legs kicking out for a moment before they wrap around Rodney's waist, heels hooking over his ass. 

Rodney growls, "Shut up, just shut up for two seconds," and dropping his mouth to bite at the line of Sheppard's neck, hands scrambling desperately at heavy, wet clothing. He can't keep this up for long, but for now there's enough adrenaline in him to lift a fucking sedan and compared to that Sheppard is easy. 

Sheppard groans, grinding and shoving against him, spine arching even as he gasps, "Is that all the longer you're going to need? Because I must say I'm not exactly impressed," as he yanks at Rodney's shirt, desperation dripping off of every movement. 

Rodney squeezes Sheppard's ass, biting at his shoulder through his shirt, gritting out, "Do you know how many times I could make you come with my dick up your ass? Fucking you the whole time?" And God, he wishes he had lube. Or fuck, he'd settle for a horizontal surface besides the floor. 

Sheppard makes an inarticulate sound, clawing at Rodney's shoulders, his whole body shuddering and still managing to bite out, "Who says I'd ever let you fuck me?" 

And Rodney grinds forward against Sheppard's erection, pinning Sheppard to the wall with his hips and working one hand between them, squeezing Sheppard's dick through the layers of wet fabric. He growls into the man's ear, "Oh, I'd say you will. I'd say you'll beg for it," and when he nips at Sheppard's jaw the man babbles something wordless, spine arching as his body jerks. 

Rodney holds him up, letting Sheppard's head rest on his shoulder, Sheppard's grip on his back desperate and tight. Sheppard finally manages, his face buried against Rodney's neck, "You idiot, you moron, you could have, you could have—" 

Rodney sighs, cupping the back of Sheppard's neck and rocking him just a little back and forth, "I didn't." 

And Sheppard makes a scornful sound, without easing his grip at all. And then he says, his voice the most hesitant Rodney has ever heard it go, "My room is...my room is really close to here." And then, a half second later, "I don't beg for anyone." 

Rodney smirks, and doesn't say a word. 

* * *


	2. Dr. and Col. Rodney McKay snippet 2

"You don't understand!"

McKay blinks, and John takes a deep breath, taking his fist off of the man's desk and a tight step back. He clears his throat, "Sir. Teyla's my team, and to expect any of us to just sit around and not do anything is ridiculous."

McKay rubs one hand over his eyes, "Are you finished?" he sounds tired, and god, looks it too, but John just doesn't have time to worry about that right now. He knows how hard running Atlantis must be, and he's done everything in his power to make it easier, guilt motivating him to go to some insane lengths, but this is Teyla and he needs her back.

John swallows, and then nods his head, "Yeah, looks like I am."

"Good. I didn't say you had to sit around and do nothing, Colonel. I said I want to pursue leads beyond our Wraith buddies, just in case he's feeding you false information." John winces at the cool tone of the other man's voice, wishing again that they didn't have the history they had, that he could look at McKay without thinking, 'he fucked me because I made him'.

John nods, sharp, "Right, well then," and waves a hand at the door, because there isn't anything else to say, really. And he means to turn at walk away, but instead he hesitates, staring at McKay, not even sure what he's looking for. It's a surprise when he hears himself ask, "Are youare things here okay? No one's bothered you?" No one better have, because John has done everything in his power to make sure that no one on Atlantis made any kind of overtures at all towards their new CO.

McKay blinks at him, and then nods, one side of his mouth twisting up into that fake smile of his, "Everyone's been great."

John finds his hands balling up into fists, hating that every damn conversation with McKay feels like pulling teeth. He knows part of it's his fault. But McKay was fucked all the hell up before John ever met him. It doesn't exactly make it easy to deal with him.

John tries anyway, he owes McKay at least that much, "That's not what I asked."

For a long moment McKay just looks at him, and then the man sits down, expression blank and clear when he says, "I don't know what you're looking for here." And John flinches, because he doesn't really know either. Absolution. Forgiveness, maybe.

Finally, he just shakes his head, and McKay frowns at him, sounding unsure when he says, "We'll find her, Sheppard." And John nods, and walks away.


	3. Dr. Sheppard and Col. Rodney McKay snippet 3

By the time John makes his way down to the infirmary, Doctor Keller already has McKay's broken leg set. McKay is sleeping when John steps into his little curtained off area, his head tilted to the side on the pillow, his hands balled up into fists even in his rest.

John sighs, dragging a hand back through his hair and hesitating at the side of McKay's bed. With anyone else in the city he would be closer, checking to make sure that everything really was okay. But not with McKay. That kind of relationship is lost to them.

Instead John just stands, watching McKay sleep the sleep of the well drugged. There are still smears of dirt on McKay's face, and a scrape across his cheek. His hair is a mess and there's nothing at all written on his cast yet. Somehow, John doubts that anyone will dare to write a thing on it, in any case.

John sighs, and shakes his head. He feels guilty over this, and has no idea why. He wasn't even on the planet when it happened, and if he had been, there would have been nothing he could do to stop it. That's not stopping the sour feeling in his stomach.

On the bed, McKay stirs, making a hoarse sound and snapping his eyes open. John startles, surprised when McKay tilts his head to the side to blink at John, coughing and trying to sit up. McKay looks disoriented, which John figures isn't a surprise, and John steps forward, saying, "Relax, you're in the infirmary. Back on Atlantis," John catches himself before he reaches out to touch McKay's shoulder. He has no right.

McKay just blinks up at John, coughing again after a moment. Finally, McKay rasps, "Kavanagh? Keller?"

"They're both fine," John shakes himself, and reaches out to pour a glass of water. All the ice in the pitcher is melted, but for right now it'll do. He hands the glass over carefully, and McKay just holds it for a long moment, before raising it to his mouth and taking a drink.

McKay closes his eyes again, then, mumbling, "Good, that's good." And John smiles, figuring that McKay will fall back to sleep. That's good. It'll give John a chance to escape, to get out of here. He still isn't sure why he came in the first place. Not really.

John sighs, and starts to step back, and McKay reaches out, moving surprisingly quickly to grab John's wrist. John freezes, staring down to where McKay is holding onto him. McKay's eyes are still closed. As far as John can tell, he's mostly asleep. But he's showing no sign of releasing John.

John stands still as stone for a long moment, and then he shifts, leaning his hip against the side of the bed. He stays right there.


End file.
